


[insert nail polish emoji here]

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Nail Polish, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, discussion of sexuality and stereotypes, it's pretty brief though, that's not a kink or anything, there's just nail painting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis doesn't like having his nails painted and therefore feels left out when he's with nick and harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[insert nail polish emoji here]

**Author's Note:**

> note: every last word of this is fiction. i do not know anything about louis' sexuality and i am definitely not stating my personal beliefs through this story. it's all very fiction-y fiction.
> 
> thanks to [caitlin](http://carswinky.tumblr.com). again. not britpicked.

Louis isn't the type of bloke to enjoy having his nails painted. He'd been forced into it enough throughout his childhood and adolescence by his sisters with their sad pouts and desperate pleas that it's put Louis off the whole thing. He can admire the look on others, honestly, but he has no desire to see it on himself.

It's unfortunate, really, because Harry and Nick have these sleepovers that resemble a preteen girl's birthday party, complete with ice cream and romantic comedies and, yes, nail painting. Louis rarely understands the pair of them, but especially when they're like this, giggling and telling each other to “hold _still_ or I'll smudge it!” Louis can't help but stare, inexplicably jealous, so jealous it aches dully in his chest.

But he doesn't like having his nails painted, doesn't like most of the films they watch, doesn't get most of their jokes. All he can do is eat the ice cream- some gourmet stuff from a little shop that has flavours like _meyer lemon vanilla bean_ and _whiskey caramel pecan_ \- and watch.

Louis should probably just go over to Zayn's or Liam's to watch The Avengers or meet Niall to kick a football around, but instead he sits in Harry's living room watching him paint Nick's nails, bitterly wishing he cared. He looks down at his own bare nails and sighs.

Nick and Harry have all sorts of _things._ Louis and Harry had things, probably still have quite a few, but he has no things with Nick. And it's shit because Louis likes Nick, against all odds, thinks he's a laugh. But they don't have anything to bond over and that's why their friendship hasn't really blossomed. They need a _thing_ , like bloody nail painting.

Louis tries, as much as he _can_ try. It doesn't come naturally to him, making an effort with friends. Usually he's just loud and people either love him or hate him and he doesn't give a shit either way. But it seems like Nick falls somewhere in the middle and that just won't do. Louis does give a shit this time.

“All done!” Harry announces, twisting the cap back on the nail polish.

Nick grins and turns to Louis, holding up his fingers to show off sparkly blue nails. “What d'you think?”

Louis smiles in return, nodding his approval. “Very lovely colour, Nicholas. Quite dashing.” They _do_ look nice and the colour _is_ lovely, but that's about all Louis can muster up.

“Thanks,” he replies, chipper and happy, blowing on his nails. “Sure you don't want a go? Think I've got black if you want to try out the goth look.”

Louis laughs softly, shaking his head. “Nah, told you. Just gives me flashbacks of being held down and forced into makeovers.”

Nick shrugs to himself and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table as Harry wanders into the kitchen, saying he's going to make drinks. He'd found a recipe for pomegranate margaritas online the day before and he'd been so excited to try it that Louis couldn't bring himself to roll his eyes. At least not until his back was turned.

“So, how'd you like the ice cream?” Nick asks, nodding towards Louis' empty bowl. This time it had been _vanilla malt and sea salt_.

“It's good, yeah,” Louis answers. “Don't see why you don't just get one of them gallon tubs from Tesco for the same price, but it's good anyway.”

Nick laughs like it's a joke, but Louis can't find any hint of malice in his expression. His laughter fades, leaving a warm smile on his face. “You're a simple lad, aren't you?”

Louis frowns, first because it seems like an insult even if there's nothing remotely insulting about the way Nick says it or the way Nick is looking at him, then because he's not sure if he's ever been described as _simple_ before. Before he can answer, though, Nick carefully picks a DVD case up from the table, careful not to mess up his nails.

“Would you mind popping this in for me?”

Louis takes the DVD from him and groans. _Bridget Jones's Diary_. Fucking Harry.

-

Louis only watches the film all the way through because Harry talks straight through it and Nick laughs along and the pitcher of margaritas Harry had made is big enough to last the duration. Afterward, a little buzzed, Louis goes to take a piss and, when he comes back out, Harry is apparently baking in the kitchen. Louis hears the telltale sounds of pans clattering and cupboards opening and closing.

“What's he up to?” Louis asks Nick as he walks back into the room.

Nick grins, almost mischievously, and stands before Louis can sit down. “Told him I was in the mood for a cake and he went straight to it,” he says, reaching into his pocket. “Thought you and I could go out back for a bit?” When he pulls his hand back out, he's got a spliff in his fingers, a question in his eyes.

 _Finally_ , something Louis can get on board with.

He happily follows Nick out onto the dark patio, sitting beside him on the big wooden swing Harry had bought a few months ago. Louis tucks his legs under him on the seat, turning toward Nick and watching as he lights the spliff.

“Didn't know you smoked,” Louis says as Nick inhales, then passes the spliff over before breathing out.

“Don't much,” he answers once he's cleared his lungs. “Just special occasions.”

Louis takes a drag himself before asking, “what makes this occasion special then?”

“You're here,” Nick answers, flashing him a smile.

Louis rolls his eyes, glad it's dark enough to hide the fact that his cheeks are surely pinking up. “God. You watch too many of those romcoms, mate.”

He takes another short drag before passing the spliff back. Nick holds it for a long moment, seeming to be lost in thought. Louis doesn't push, just rests his elbow on the top of the backrest of the swing, holding his chin in his palm. Nick has one leg folded up, but the other is draped over the edge, rocking them slightly, like he doesn't realize he's doing it.

“Did you know I don't like films?” He asks, flicking the ash off the spliff. “Of all the things I could be doing for two hours of my life, watching a film is quite low on the list.”

Louis squints in confusion, watching as Nick takes another slow drag. “Why are you two always watching them then?”

Nick breathes out, looking past Louis for a long moment, a small smile playing at his lips. Then he flicks his eyes over to meet Louis', shrugging. “Harry loves those films. And I love Harry, so.” He hands the spliff to Louis, their fingers barely touching. “Sometimes you do shit you don't want to do for people you love.”

Louis feels a hot curl of jealousy in his stomach, twisting slowly inside him. It's not new information that they love each other; every time Harry talks to Nick on the phone, he signs off with a “love you”, but Louis wishes he wasn't stuck on the outside, looking in at their friendship. He wishes he could have that, too.

“But you seem like the type who never does anything you don't want to do just to make friends,” Nick goes on, drumming his fingers against the seat between them. “Bet your friends just adore you, even if you don't compromise.”

Louis narrows his eyes, but it's possible that he's right. Generally, he doesn't bend over backwards to please people. He'll go to the end of the earth for the people he loves, but he's not one to compromise in a what-kind-of-toppings-do-you-want-on-your-pizza way or a which-radio-station-should-we-listen-to way.

Shaking his head, he takes another hit, then twists his lips. “I'm here with you lot, though, aren't I? Watching dumb films and drinking Harry's pomegranate margaritas.”

Nick smiles lazily, the weed seeming to start to take effect. “That's true,” he says simply.

They finish the rest of the spliff between them in comfortable silence, only the distant city noise and a few muffled bangs from the kitchen sounding out. When Nick stubs the spliff out, he finally speaks again.

“You should do one thing for me,” he says softly, leaning against the back of the seat, staring at Louis across the darkness.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I told you, I don't want my nails painted.”

“I know, it's not that,” Nick replies through a laugh, shaking his head.

Louis squints curiously, his limbs feeling heavy from the drugs, and waits.

The smile on Nick's face lingers as his fingers lift to sweep over Louis' fringe, gently combing through it. It makes Louis feel more buzzed, his skin warmer and his thoughts slowing to a standstill.

“One thing I really like to do,” he says, his voice low and the words coming slowly, “is kiss my friends when I'm drunk.”

Louis smirks, or at least he thinks he's smirking. His muscles are reacting very slowly to the commands from his brain. “So I'm your friend?”

The corners of Nick's lips twitch and he brings his thumb to Louis' bottom lip, touching it gently. “'Course you are, idiot,” he whispers.

Louis' eyelids flutter shut and he leans in to meet Nick's lips in a soft kiss. He probably should have more questions or thoughts, but he's a little drunk and a little stoned and he's Nick's friend. So, he parts his lips to Nick's tongue, their open mouths pressing together in a slow, lazy kiss that tastes like tart pomegranates and bitter weed.

If this is compromising, Louis should look into doing it more often.

-

A few days later, Louis gets a text from Nick. It's rare, seeing Nick's name pop up on the screen of his phone, so he opens it curiously, reading: _hiya! fancy a bit of one on one?_ There's a football emoji after that and Louis stares at it, baffled. He's seen Nick attempt to play football before, seen how awful he was. So awful that, as Louis remembers, he ended up in hospital.

Smirking to himself, he types out: _sure, why? know someone who isn't rubbish at footie who'd like to play?_ He adds a winking emoji to soften the blow, though, so it's fine.

The response comes almost immediately: _ha bloody ha is that a yes or no tomlinson?_

Louis would love nothing more than to keep it up, to go on teasing Nick for hours if possible, but he doesn't. It's obvious what Nick is trying to do and Louis is quite honestly grateful. He's never known how to get closer to Nick, but this is Nick giving him an opportunity, making it easier on him. It's exactly what he'd wanted.

So, instead of replying with another insult, he says yes, arranging a time for Nick to come over. They could go to a park to play, but Louis' garden is plenty big enough and they won't be hassled by people who recognize them there.

The next afternoon, Nick shows up at his door in snap-up trackies and a t-shirt, holding a case of beer and a Tesco bag. He hands the beer over as he steps inside and it's not until that moment that Louis realizes Nick's never been here. He probably should have tidied up.

“Nice place,” Nick says anyway, smiling. “I've ordered pizza to arrive in an hour and I brought this,” he says, pulling something large out of the Tesco bag.

It's a gallon tub of chocolate ice cream. Louis bursts into laughter at the sight of it.

Nick just smiles, holding the ice cream, seeming pleased by Louis' reaction. “And we can play video games or read comic books or whatever it is you like to do,” he finishes as Louis' laughter fades.

“You go all out, don't you?” Louis asks, shaking his head as he walks past Nick, knocking his elbow and leading him to the kitchen. “What do I have to do with you then? Masturbate to nineties rap?”

Nick laughs loudly then and Louis ignores the little swell of pride he feels. He shoves the ice cream into an open spot in the freezer, letting the cool air rush over his face as Nick laughs behind him.

“Well, I'm certainly not going to say no to that,” Nick finally answers as Louis gets the beer in the fridge, then turns around, finding the older lad looking gleeful. “But, no, we did my thing the other night, remember? It's your turn. Unless, of course, you want to skip the footie and do my thing again? Because that was rather nice.”

Louis just rolls his eyes. “Hell no, Grimshaw. I've been looking forward to this all day. I could use a laugh.”

Nick goes to playfully punch him in the side for that, grinning, but Louis just barely manages to swerve away from his fist. He wiggles his eyebrows cockily and straightens his shirt.

“You ready to embarrass yourself?” Louis asks, pointing a thumb toward the back garden.

Nick holds a finger up, though. “Hold on, have to get my secret weapon,” he says, then reaches down and rips his trackies off, the snaps at the sides coming undone with one fluid motion. He's left standing in a pair of tight black shorts and he drops the trackies, bringing his hands to his hips. “Try keeping your eye on the ball with these killer legs in view.”

Louis covers his face, moaning into his hands, and leaves the room. He calls back over his shoulder, shouting, “I have no idea why I want to be your friend, I really don't!”

Except his words are shaking over the laughter he's trying to keep in, so, he might be lying.

-

Nick is _terrible_. Like, Louis had underestimated how bloody _awful_ he is. He can't change direction without tripping over his feet and, more times than not, he just sort of stands and watches the ball fly by him with his hands on his hips.

They're not keeping score, but they really don't need to. It would just be embarrassing for Nick and Louis isn't exactly proud of beating him because a toddler could have beaten him, honestly. But it's still fun, the cool, damp air seeping into Louis' skin and the thrill of running as fast as he can, dribbling the ball between his feet, making Louis feel light.

Within a half hour, Nick is sprawled out on the grass, groaning about what an awful sport this is. Louis kicks a few goals to give him time to whine it off, then finally grabs the ball and drops to sit down beside him on the grass.

“The sport isn't awful, you're awful,” Louis points out, only because it's true. “Like, worse than Harry even.”

Nick grunts out from under the arm draped over his face, then pulls it away. He pouts up at Louis miserably, reaching out to poke Louis' thigh. “You're mean. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Loads,” Louis answers with a smirk. “Doesn't change the fact that you're terrible at football.”

Nick rolls his eyes dramatically. “Well, I _knew_ that. I just forgot the part where it hurts.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums thoughtfully, “will you be needing a massage later then?”

Nick purses his lips in interest, eyebrows lifting. “Depends on which bits you're offering to massage.”

Louis almost tosses the football down at his head, just barely managing to restrain himself. “I didn't actually offer at all and I'm certainly not going to rub any of your bits now.” He pushes himself up from the ground, going on. “You know, I'm starting to suspect this whole football thing was all a ruse to get into my pants.”

He fights to keep his face straight, even when Nick sits up in a flash, grabbing his legs and pulling him back down. Louis topples over, landing on Nick and almost definitely hurting him in the process, but the older lad doesn't seem to care.

“Sorry, sorry, no dick massages, got it,” Nick mumbles, wrapping his arms around Louis. “Want to play some more? If I can still stand?”

Louis hides his smile in Nick's shoulder for a moment, then rolls onto the grass beside him. Before he can answer, he hears a car pulling into his drive.

“You've been saved by pizza,” he says, turning his head to look at Nick.

Nick smiles and pumps his fist in the air, then says, “not the first time pizza's saved me, actually.”

Louis rolls his eyes and says, “your dick's hard, by the way,” before hopping up and dribbling the football back toward the house.

He doesn't actually have any idea if it's true or not.

-

After they eat most of the pizza and drink a couple of the beers, Louis starts up his PS4 and they drink more, playing Call of Duty. Louis would have chosen FIFA, but he's being considerate and giving Nick a break from football. It doesn't seem to matter because Nick is still dreadful even after a lengthy tutorial.

By the time they give up, they've gone through half a dozen beers and Louis starts to wonder when Nick will leave. It's getting later in the evening and maybe he has other plans tonight. It's just that they're having a really good time and Louis doesn't really want it to end yet.

When Louis goes to hook his ipod up to his speakers, Nick asks him to put it on shuffle. He's probably just looking for an excuse to make fun of his music, but Louis does it anyway, not giving a shit what Nick thinks of his taste in music. The first song that comes up is The Fray and he adjusts the volume before going to sit next to Nick on the sofa sideways, lying back against the armrest.

“So, how bad has today been on a scale of one to Harry's nail painting and soppy movies?”

“Hey, I like the nail painting,” Nick retorts, pointing a finger at Louis, the blue of his nails glinting in the light. “But honestly, I think we found something I'd like to do less than watch a film for two hours, and that's fucking football.”

Louis scowls, kicking his foot out and jabbing it into Nick's thigh. “Hey, watch your tone, pal.”

Nick grabs Louis' ankle then, holding it still to keep him from kicking again. He doesn't move his hand away when Louis relaxes his muscles, just runs his thumb over the skin.

“Take it as a compliment,” he says, turning sincere. “I hate footie, but I still played with you. And I'd do it again, if you wanted, because you made it fun even when it wasn't fun.”

Louis hesitates, seeing the faint blush of Nick's cheeks. His expression is cool and confident, but that slight colour shows Louis that he's at least a little embarrassed, or maybe nervous. Louis smiles, then pushes himself up until he's sat next to Nick, turned sideways with one leg tucked in and one draped over Nick's lap.

“Since you did my stuff all day,” he says softly, reaching up to press his palm to the side of Nick's neck, fingers curling around the back, “maybe we should do your thing now.”

Nick just breathes out heavily before leaning toward Louis, kissing him. It's a more intense kiss than the last one, harder and faster, like it's going somewhere this time. Louis holds Nick steady by the back of his neck, licking against Nick's tongue and humming at the heat of it. He can already imagine how that tongue would feel in other places.

A minute or so into the kiss, the song changes and it's “Kryptonite” by 3 Doors Down. Nick immediately pulls out of the kiss, cringing over a laugh, bringing his hand to cover his face.

“God, you are without a doubt the straightest gay boy I've ever met,” he says, shaking his head. “Football and video games, no appreciation for gourmet food. Refusal to have your nails painted, now this.”

Louis pauses, then sits back, narrowing his eyes. “Nick, I've heard you say many stupid things, but I think that has to be the worst.”

He gets up and Nick squawks, trying to grab him, but Louis just walks over to the ipod and turns the music off, the room left silent. When he goes back to the sofa to a confused Nick, he straddles him, kneeling over his lap.

“So, because I like football and video games and 3 Doors Down and I don't care for having my nails painted, I must like women, huh?” He reaches up to grab a fistful of Nick's hair and gently pulls his head back, dropping his mouth to the lad's neck. “Couldn't possibly want to fuck you, _a man_ , right?”

“That's not what I-” Nick chokes out as Louis flicks his tongue over his skin, sliding up to nibble his earlobe. “That's not what I _meant_ , I just- you-”

“Like cock,” Louis supplies, biting down hard enough for it to hurt just a bit. “I fucking love cock, _and_ football _and_ video games and whatever else you think is so straight about me.”

Nick breathes out harshly, trying to nod, but Louis' got a firm grip on his hair so he can't move much. “Sorry, you're right,” he says, his throat tight around the words as Louis moves his lips down to nip his teeth over Nick's jaw. “ _Fuck_ , sorry, I didn't mean it.”

Louis nuzzles his jaw then, knocking his nose against Nick's skin. “I know,” he says, because he does know Nick didn't mean anything by it. Louis' just a little tired of being boxed into categories. If he holds his wrist a certain way, the public cries out that he's gay. If he styles his hair a certain way or wears a certain type of clothing, he's obviously straight. He's sick of people making assumptions about his sexuality based on his interests, his appearance. It seems like most of his fans have thought more about his sexuality than he has himself.

“Let me show you how not straight I am,” he whispers, wanting Nick to know he's forgiven. He slides down to the floor between Nick's legs, pushing a hand up over the bulge in the lad's jeans. This time, Louis is sure. Nick is definitely hard.

“You really don't have to,” Nick offers, even though it's halfhearted at best.

Louis just smiles and reaches up to pinch his nipple, too roughly to be anything but playful. “I know. That's the point. I _want_ to.”

Nick falls silent then, letting Louis pull his trousers and pants off completely, then give Nick’s cock a few slow tugs. He lowers his mouth around the tip first, sucking curiously and tasting the salt of his precome, before he slides down further, hollowing his cheeks.

With the music off, Louis just listens to Nick's sounds as he sucks him off, the harsh breaths and quiet moans that spill out of him. When Nick groans lowly, Louis flicks his gaze up, watching as he drops his head back, mouth open, for just a moment before he pulls his chin down again, looking right into Louis' eyes. His cock is throbbing, so heavy on Louis' tongue, and he pulls off before Nick can come.

“Spread your legs,” he directs gently, motioning for Nick to pull his feet up onto the sofa, spreading him wide open.

Amazingly, he doesn't seem to expect it when Louis licks down over his balls, finding his hole. He gasps loudly at the first touch, muscles going tense, then just as quickly, completely melting into it.

“Okay?” Louis checks, flicking his tongue over the soft skin like a question.

“Yes,” Nick breathes out. “Yeah, fuck, yes.”

Louis smirks before setting to work, pulling Nick's cheeks apart to lick over his rim, softly and then not so softly, using more and more pressure. He's barely able to force his tongue inside, Nick so tight around him, and his reaches one hand up to grasp his cock, wanking him. Between the two sensations, Nick comes quickly, jerking as he spills over his stomach with Louis' tongue licking inside him.

Louis waits a moment, kissing his hole lightly before he stands, shucks his own trousers and pants off, and drops over Nick to straddle him again. Nick is still sluggish from his orgasm, so Louis doesn't ask for a hand, just curls his fingers around his own cock.

“Perfect ending to the perfect date,” Nick says quietly, resting his hands on Louis' thighs as he watches him wank.

Louis almost stops, completely caught off guard, but he's too close to stop. “Wha- is this a date?” He asks breathlessly, fisting his cock.

Nick shrugs, looking over Louis' body before he meets his gaze. “I hoped so.”

Louis opens his mouth to reply, but his orgasm comes before he can figure out what to say and he moans instead as he shoots over Nick's stomach, their come mixing together.

He slumps down when he's spent, pressing his face against Nick's shoulder. He takes a couple of minutes to breathe, letting the haze of his orgasm fade a bit before he finally speaks.

“Okay, so,” he says slowly, voice still a bit shaky. “I guess, as far as dates are concerned, this would be a fairly good one.”

He can feel Nick's lips curl into a smile against his own shoulder, then press into a kiss there. “Not bad, but the next date's going to be even better.”

Louis breathes out a tired laugh, turning his head to nuzzle into the curve of Nick's neck. “Yeah? What'll that be then?”

“Masturbating to nineties rap, of course,” Nick answers, still smiling into Louis' skin. “And maybe chocolate ice cream, since you have a surplus now. And absolutely no exercise.”

Louis muffles a grunt against Nick's neck, wiggling his hips a bit.

Nick seems to understand, amending his statement. “Well, maybe a little bit of exercise.”

Louis nods, satisfied.

-

“What colour this time?” Harry asks the next week, lining up several bottles of nail polish on the coffee table for Nick to choose from.

Louis takes a deep breath, remembering what Nick had said about compromise. With a feeling of dread, he walks over to Harry's sofa and motions for them to move aside, plopping down between them. They both eye him curiously, waiting for an explanation.

Louis just puts a hand on each of their thighs, sighing. “I don't give a fuck what colour you pick, but first one finished wins.”

Harry and Nick both hesitate for a long moment, too shocked to move. But then, at the same time, they both spring into action, grabbing the nearest bottle and getting to work.

In the end, Louis has purple polish on his left hand and orange polish on his right, both messier than his baby siblings' finger paintings. It's horrible and ugly and Louis hates it.

But Harry and Nick both love it, both look so happy they could burst.

And Louis loves that.


End file.
